Speaking of Daniel, it hadn’t been at all humiliating when she’d caught him fucking her best friend. Not at all.
But this? This was an all-time, record-beating embarrassing moment. Crying would have been perfectly acceptable. But since she rarely did anything right, she dissolved into a hysterical fit of laughter instead.
Lines of worry etched his forehead. “Did you hit your head back there?”
She kept cracking up. Her laughter echoed through the swamp, rocked the boat, and scared the birds from the trees. Between giggles, she managed to choke out, “Did you get footage of that? Me? Naked? Being chased by an alligator. Classic B-movie horror material.” She cackled so hard she nearly blew off her limbs.
His expression turned grave. “Shh. Blue, calm down and take a breath. I think you’re in shock.”
The tenderness in his voice uprooted a tangled mess of emotion. All at once she stopped laughing. It wasn’t funny anymore. It wasn’t funny before. Why was she laughing? She wiped the blood off her shin. “I lost my shoes. I loved those shoes.”
“I know, darlin’. I’m so sorry.” He brought her legs to his lap and thumbed circles over the arches of her feet. “Just close your eyes for a minute and catch your breath.”
Warmth from his touch traveled up her body and expanded her heart. Daniel had never touched her unless she’d showered, waxed, and shaved every last hair off her body. Yet there was Walker, rubbing her gross feet and acting like the mud and blood didn’t exist.
He cared about her. No one cared about her. Even Effie cared more about her addiction than her own sister.
And in that rainy, dreary, black swamp, her affection for him bloomed like a rose.
“Feel better now?” he asked.
She bit her lip and nodded.
“I really do know where we are. Fifteen minutes away. I promise. Think you can make it?”
As long as she was with him, she could last another day. Okay, that was a bald-faced lie. She picked up her oars and stuck them in the swamp. “Let’s get the fuck out of this shithole.”
After paddling for a while she said, “Walker?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For caring.”
“Of course I care. You don’t have to thank me for that.” He rowed for another minute then stopped. “Blue?”
“Yeah?”
“Painting a princess mural?”
“Yeah, not sure why I said that.”
A deep belly laugh bellowed out of him. She cracked up too. And together they laughed all the way to the ranger station, which like he said, only took fifteen minutes to get there.
Since she’d lost her shoes (and underwear), he carried her to the Silver Dildo. The whole way in his arms, she nestled her nose in the crook of his neck and breathed.
Okefenokee Park, Campground
“Taking pictures is savoring life intensely, every hundredth of a second.”—Marc Riboud
Later that evening, in the park’s jungle-covered campground, Walker watched Callie as she slept. He smiled at the soft purrs she made in her sleep. She was such a contradiction—delicate pixie on the outside, strong as a Viking on the inside.
Stronger than him, that’s for sure. Unlike her, he almost stroked out when he saw that alligator. But she just laughed her ass off. It scared the hell out of him. He thought she had a concussion.
Then she’d lost her favorite shoes. That upset him too. Those shoes were her trademark. He’d taken at least a hundred pictures of her wearing them.
The park ranger thought she’d probably stumbled upon a nest. Apparently, the females attacked anything that threatened their eggs.
“If someone pissed on my children,” she’d joked with the ranger, “I’d get a little aggressive too.” Then she’d broken down giggling again.
Any other woman—hell, any other man—would have been hysterical in that situation. And not Callie’s version of hysteria—the other kind—the screaming-for-mommy variety.
As far as he was concerned, that little spitfire deserved a medal of valor.
Since they’d been back, she hadn’t left his side. And now, she was cuddled up next to him, fast asleep. He brushed away a few strands of hair that stuck to her mouth. Her lips puckered slightly as if she were kissing someone in her dreams. He couldn’t resist—he gave her a gentle peck.
Right then her phone rang. She jolted up and grabbed it. “Slow down,” she said to whomever was on the line. “Start over again.” She scooted off the bench. “Hold on.” Covering the phone, she mouthed she’d be right back.
Outside, she perched on a stump, listening and nodding. For a split second, he turned away, and when he looked back, she was gone. He bounded down the steps. In the distance, a black dot bolted down the red dirt road like a bat out of hell.
Heart rate kicking into overdrive, he paced a path around the camper. She didn’t have a flashlight, and it was darker than a cat’s asshole out there.
That damn swamp was chock-full of predators too. And not just animals—toothless shotgun-carrying inbreeds camped out there.
Her mental state was questionable at best. She was hurt. He didn’t even have her damn phone number.
He stormed inside to get a flashlight. If he found her in one piece, he was going to strangle her.
Chapter Fifteen
Lovin’
“It serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.”―Dorothy Parker
Soundtrack: Elbow, “Grounds for Divorce”
Callie picked a mosquito bite while her sister flipped out.
“Have you seen it yet?” Effie asked.
“What?”
“Daniel’s Facebook status?”
“I defriended him. Why is he still on yours?”
“Cal—”
“What?”
“He . . . God, I don’t know how to tell you this—”
“For fuck’s sake. Give me your login.”
Effie rattled off her user name and password, and Callie pulled up Daniel’s profile. She scrolled through several benign updates. Then it jumped out at her—a tagged photo of him kissing Hillary.
She read the caption out loud, “‘Daniel and I are happy to announce our engagement. Nuptials will take place August 15th. Hope to see you there.’”
Her baby’s due date.
Blind rage ripped through her as she zoomed in on the bottle of wine in front of them. She’d bought it for Daniel on his birthday. It’d cost a bloody fortune, but he refused to open it. Told her he was waiting for something worth celebrating. It stayed corked when he’d asked her to marry him, and now he and her best friend were celebrating their engagement with her fucking bottle of wine.
They’d taken everything from her. “Lying cheating, mother-fucking, cock-sucking, assholes!” she screamed into the phone.
A bomb ticked inside her. She hung up on her sister and ran. She ran and ran and ran until she doubled over in pain and threw up.
How long were they having an affair? Months? Years? Clearly he’d been fucking her friend for a long time. Why did he even bother to ask Callie to marry him?
A betrayal like theirs was already unforgivable. But getting married on her baby’s due date? That was a precise cut—an advanced surgical procedure. They’d not only sliced open her heart, they scheduled a date for the operation.
And while they were happily planning their wedding and drinking her wine, she was being attacked by alligators
All at once, the wrath and pain and humiliation boiled over. She punched her fists in the air and let loose an animalistic roar of fury.
Everything stilled. The cicadas stopped whirring, the frogs quit croaking, and the distant sounds of the campground ceased.
The night—heavy and black—fell over her like a funeral shroud.
Alone. She felt so horribly alone.
She sank to her knees and laid her cheek on the dank ground, inhaling rapid breaths into her emotionally c
logged lungs.
Slowly, her chest expanded, and when it was wide open, and she was breathing normally, an odd sensation washed over her—one she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Relief.
She felt relieved. The picture blasted away any remaining doubt she’d held onto. It was finally over. She was free. And it felt like she’d just shed a thousand pounds.
Good riddance.
They deserved each other. Daniel wasn’t going to treat her bitch of a friend any different. He’d end up beating her down too. Then when she was at her lowest, he’d screw her friend behind her back.
If Callie told you what happened next, you wouldn’t believe her. It was like a religious experience. But she’d settle for calling it a coincidence.
Anyway, a bright light exploded in her face and took away all the darkness.
“Blue?” he turned off the flashlight.
“Walker?”
She wasn’t alone. She had him.
“Lips that taste of tears are the best for kissing.”—Dorothy Parker
Soundtrack: Caught A Ghost, "Like a Virgin"
Walker scolded her all the way back to the Silver Dildo. While he yelled at her, she casually slipped her hand in his. He wrapped his toasty fingers around hers and continued listing her crimes. “You didn’t have a flashlight. You could have died out here . . . Christ woman, you don’t even any shoes on!”
Still holding her hand, he opened the door and shut it behind them. “If you ever do something like that again . . .” His fiery glare implied the punishment would be worse than death.
“Walker?”
“What?” he snapped.
“Will you shut up and kiss me?”
He jerked back. “Kiss you?”
“Yes, I’ve had a really long day, and I just want you to kiss me.”
“A long day?”
She circled her arms around his waist. “Yes, and after that, I’d like you to take me to bed and ravish me.”
“Ravish you?”
“Oh, all right, fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”
For a good thirty seconds, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Her pulse skittered. What if he refused? What if he wasn’t interested? Had she misread him?
At long last, a sinful sideways grin swept up one corner of his mouth. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Please.”
Glasses at the end of his nose, he boosted up a brow and asked her again. “Sure about that?”
“Positive,” she said, taking off his specs.
With his finger, he drew tingles along her jaw. She snuck her hand under his shirt. The smell of lemons, fabric softener, and hot skin wafted out. She gazed into his eyes and willed him to kiss her.
It worked. He pressed his lips to hers, lightly stroking her lips with his tongue. “Ready?” he asked
“Mmmrph,” she confirmed against his mouth.
“Let’s go then.”
“Seriously?”
“Hell, yeah.”
She sprinted to the back, ripping off her shirt on the way. He thundered after her, pausing just long enough to hurl his shoes over his shoulder.
“Shirt,” she cried, “off.”
His shirt flew over his head. “Shorts,” he shouted. “Get rid of ’em.”
She squirmed out of her clothes. “Yours too! Lose them!”
He shucked them off, and The Most Beautiful Cock In The World™ sprang from its underwear cage like a mighty throbbing red beast. A choir should have been singing “Hallelujah” in the background, because glory be to God, the thing was magnificent.
She patted the bed next to her. He crawled across it like a lion and possessively dragged her into his arms. Side-by-side, nose-to-nose, gaze riveted to hers, he tucked her hair behind an ear and said, “God, I want you so bad. Sure you didn’t hit your head in the swamp?” He sounded genuinely worried. “You’re not gonna change your mind or wake up hating me tomorrow, are you? This is real, right?”
The sweet vulnerability he’d just exposed? It sent her heart orbiting around the sun. That yummy man wanted her—and badly no less.
Suddenly, she felt like the sexiest woman alive.
Oh, it was real all right. And she proved it by kissing every inch of his face. “I want you, Walker,” she said. Grazing her lips against the sandpapery scruff of his chin, she told him again, “I want you.” And once more, murmuring against his mouth, “So bad.”
A savage growl rumbled from his chest. He gripped her ass in one hand and the back of her neck in the other. The feeding frenzy began. They crashed together, lips against lips, bodies banging, cock against pussy, hands all over each other—nibbling, sucking, rubbing and grinding.
While he pinched one nipple and sucked the other, his other hand unhooked the back of her bra. Impressive. The man had skills. But he’d had practice. Lots of practice.
And then, as he made out with her breasts, she quietly began to freak out. Was she just another coworker conquest to him? What would happen afterwards? Would he still respect her in the morning? Did he even respect her now?
Walker raised his head and searched her face as if seeking approval. At the same time, he gently pinched her nipples and sent zings of heat through her body.
Why was she upset again?
Back to worshiping her breasts he went—laving, licking, and sucking. Ribbons of pleasure flowed from the tips of her nipples down through her core. She arched into him. “That’s . . . Oh my God. Keep doing that.”
“Gorgeous,” he said, pushing her tits together. “Sweet plums.” As he sucked, his hard-on rubbed against her leg, crying out for attention.
But she couldn’t reach it while he was on her boob. Wriggling free of his mouth, she scooted closer.
“Where are you going?” he asked sheepishly.
“To meet my new best friend.” She stroked a hand down his velvety hard shaft. A drop of pre-cum beaded at the cleft. She smeared the silky liquid over the swollen head and continued running a hand up and down his length.
He unleashed a low man gasp “Jesus, that feels good.”
Yes, but merely touching it wasn’t good enough for her. She needed to see it, taste it, smell it. With that goal in mind, she licked her way down his chest—made a pit stop at his nipples—and quickly got back on the road. Down, down, down she wandered, until she arrived at the destination.
She kissed her new friend hello and rubbed his dewy tip around her mouth like lipstick. Without delay, she wrapped her lips around him and engulfed him, sucking him down as far as she could. But he was simply too big. The trials and tribulations of dealing with a big dick were so . . . um, hard. Said no one ever.
His breathing intensified. “Fuck, that’s hot. Ladies first though, baby.”
She removed her lips and gave him a little shove. “Nun-uh. Ever since I saw you in the. . .” Why remind him of the bathroom incident? She’d had enough embarrassment for the day. “Let me at him.”
Like a good boy, he fell back on the pillow. “Christ, you’re killing me.”
Up, down, and around, she licked him.
He watched her intently, occasionally smoothing her hair behind an ear so he could see. “That’s so pretty—you sucking my cock.”
She hitched her gaze to his. “Mmm.”
“Fuck.” He yanked out of her mouth. “Your turn,” he said, sounding extremely tense.
“Wait. I’m not done.”
“Well, I will be if you don’t stop that. Now sit back and spread ’em.” He pushed apart her legs and stared at her crotch with his brows hooked together and his lips crammed closed.
“What?” she asked.
“Is that natural?” His head tilted to the left.
She bolted up. “Is what natural?”
He stroked her patch of light peach fuzz. “Are you blonde, Bluebell? Black’s not your real hair color?”
“No! Yes! Shit. Yes, I’m naturally blonde. For fuck’s sake, get inside me!”
/> An X-rated grin spread over him and melted her core. “I’ll be damned.” He stroked her then dropped to his knees, feathering kisses on her hips, tummy, and thighs on the way down.
She whimpered. “Walker, please, put your penis inside me.”
“Nun-uh, first I’m gonna eat that blonde pussy of yours.” He flicked her clit with his tongue.
Heat flooded her. “Oh, all right,” she grumbled, faking irritation. “I guess I can wait.”
Still grinning, he slipped a finger inside her and pumped it leisurely. Too leisurely. She shimmied over his hand.
“Damn, woman, you’re soaked.” He stirred his finger inside her, making a sloshy sucking sound. After that titillating declaration, he covered her mound with his mouth and gave her clit a passionate kiss. “You taste good”—he licked it again—“real good. Like sweet cream.”
Sweet cream? That was debatable. But if the man loved the taste of her vagina, then who was she to argue?
A bolt of electricity hit her center. She clamped her thighs around his head.
“Feel good?” he asked with a deep voice just a level above Barry White’s.
She clutched the sheets and glanced up at his glossy face. “Wh-What?”
“How ’bout this?” He sucked her clit and tapped two fingers on her g-spot. She whimpered and ground her pelvis against his mouth
Satisfied with that response, he went to town, feasting upon her like a man possessed. It wasn’t long before every muscle in her body contracted. Bliss climbed to its peak and hovered on the edge. A rush of ecstasy blazed through her, and she tumbled over the cliff. She whimpered in painful ecstasy.
Pumping his cock, he lifted his head and grinned down at his handy work, i.e., her very wet vagina.
“Get inside me immediately!” she commanded, her voice a hoarse squeak.
“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” He caressed her drenched thighs.
“I’m begging you.”
Road-Tripped Page 14
